The Twilight 25
by TheHeartOfLife
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles based on various prompts over a three month period.
1. Heart

**I'm participating in The Twilight Twenty-Five, a writing challenge where authors are given 25 one-word prompts to create one-shots and drabbles. I'm the new kid in class, so any feedback would be really appreciated. **

**Thanks to hmonster4 for her fabulous beta services! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. **

**Here we go…**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Heart  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella  
Rating: K

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He's reaching for a box of Kraft macaroni & cheese when the edge of a wayward shopping cart bumps into his.

"Oh, excuse –"

His voice dies in his throat as he turns. The box of noodles and powdered cheese slips from his fingers, crashing against its brethren on the shelf.

She stares back at him, hands gripping her cart. Her eyes widen and her mouth moves silently.

His heart, a muscle practically atrophied by disuse, pounds fiercely against his ribs.

The world shifts. Emerald green meets deep brown, and they finally understand what they have both been waiting for.


	2. Walls

**Another little drabble for you. I have a music rec to go along with this one – Rachael Yamagata's "Little Life." It's really a heartbreaking song and I think it captures the emotion Bella's feeling here. There's a link to the song on my profile if you're interested. **

**Thanks as always to hmonster4 for her invaluable feedback and discerning eyes…**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Walls  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella  
Rating: K

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I stopped as I rounded the corner, noticing the absence immediately.

The small, hardy green stalk that had grown out of a crack in the brick wall of Forks High was gone.

Vanished.

The wall blurred behind my anguished tears. That plant was my hope, the only sign in my empty life that it was possible to survive despite insurmountable conditions. There was no reason it should have planted its roots there, in a home with nothing to support it, much less thrived.

It showed up a month after Edward left me. And now it was gone, just like him.


	3. Raindrops

**This was meant to be totally unrelated to the last drabble, but in hindsight it sort of meshes with it. I listened to "Wild Horses" on repeat while writing this (so about two times, ha). The Rolling Stones are the genius originators of the song, but I am partial to The Sundays' version found on my profile. **

**Note: Eventually I will live up to the "M" status of this story. I'm nervously working up to it. **

**Thanks to hmonster4 as usual :)  
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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Raindrops  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella  
Rating: T

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There was a clap of lightning, briefly illuminating his body.

"Edward?" I gasped, twisted in the sheets. It had been so long. Was I dreaming?

"I thought I could leave you," his strangled whisper echoed in the darkness. "I was wrong, Bella."

"Why?" One word infused with every other question I couldn't ask.

"Because I love you. I'm so sorry."

Another bolt of lightning, so close. It streaked across the angry sky and his face was bathed in brilliant light. Raindrops were caught in his lashes, running down his cheeks, and for a moment it looked like he was weeping.


	4. Soft

**Musical inspiration for this one is Jeff Buckley's "If You Knew."  
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**hmonster4 made it better :) **

**And finally, I haven't said this in awhile, but I don't own Twilight. I think you knew that.**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Soft  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella  
Rating: T

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"If only I could have you," he said, watching from a few feet away as she rifled through her locker. His silent heart longed to match the rhythm of her pulse.

"I will love you forever, Bella."

She huffed, pulled out a book in triumph. Shutting her locker, she moved toward him. Her deep brown eyes found his, now amber. Heat invaded her cheeks.

His words, spoken too softly for the human ear to catch, hung in the air between them.

"Hi, Edward." His name was so exquisite on her lips.

"Hello," he replied and then, nearly silent, "I'm yours."


	5. Crusade

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

**Soundtrack: How to Disappear Completely – Radiohead; Leaving Hope – Nine Inch Nails.**

**Beta: the illustrious hmonster4.**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Crusade  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella  
Rating: T

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Some people are desperate in their final moments. Clinging to that last gossamer thread of life, they gasp and plead and make bargains. They promise. Their heart seizes in fear. And then it stops.

I wondered if that was how Bella felt in her final moments, when her lungs were filling with water, when she was dying. Did she fight for her precious life or did she give up quickly? Did she thrash, her fingernails begging for purchase somewhere, anywhere, or did she descend down into those shadowy depths willingly?

I had imagined her so many times, the bubbles streaming from her mouth, one after another after another, and then slowing until they stopped altogether. I imagined her hair undulating around her pale face. Her eyes were open and unseeing, but still somehow warm. Her mouth - god, I would never kiss that mouth again - was still. She was so breathtakingly beautiful, even in death.

I had caused her destruction. And now I would orchestrate my own. I would beg for the mercy of death. No, not beg. I would demand it. And I would revel in the agony, the sheer and glorious pain of it all as they decimated my body. As they burned it until I was nothing.

Without her, I was nothing anyway.

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**I appreciate you reading, if you are.  
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	6. Wood

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. **

**Broken record, but thanks to hmonster4 for helpin' me out all the time. **

**This one's a bit longer. I'm like Bill Murray in "What About Bob?" All about the baby steps. **

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Wood  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella  
Rating: T

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"Well, love?"

His smile was incandescent. After two months of looking at countless properties Edward was finally appeased. It seemed that we had found our home.

"It's beautiful," I said. And it was true. Then again, the same was true of a few other houses we'd looked at. It was becoming hard to discern one from another at this point. Eventually a kitchen is a kitchen is a kitchen.

His face fell. "You don't sound excited."

I turned to our real estate agent, an icy strawberry-blonde bombshell who had been eyeing Edward all morning. "Can you give us a minute?"

"Of course." She moved swiftly out of the empty room, her stilettos clicking softly against the hardwood floors.

I turned to my husband. "Edward, I love this house. Actually, I've loved several of the houses we've seen since we started looking. But _you _didn't love them, and it matters to me that you're happy, too. I know how important it is to you that we find the right house."

He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. His eyes were intent and shaded with disappointed. "Bella, _you're_ what's important. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

I laid my hand against his cheek. "Because while I understand and appreciate the need to find a place to live, the overall aesthetics and location don't matter so much to me."

He continued to spiral into confusion and I laughed at the puzzled look on his face. My fingers touched the small mess of lines in between his brows.

"This is just a beautifully constructed mass of wood, Edward. I live here." My hand moved from his face to his heart. "My home is with you. As long as we're together, we could live anywhere in the world, in any kind of house and I would be happy. I just didn't want to stop until we were _both_ in agreement on our new home. And I think we are." I grinned up at him, biting my lip. "Aren't we?"

He let out a low sigh. His long lashes gently dusted the delicate hollow beneath his eyes as he closed them. And when he opened them again, they shone with love. Forget his smile before, _now _he was lit from within. "Do you know how much I love you, Bella Cullen?"

"Not nearly as much as I love you," I replied. My lips curved into a smile just as he pressed his mouth to mine and I could feel that he was smiling, too. His hands moved from my waist to my face, cradling it gently. His skin was warm and I nearly drowned underneath his ardent touch. He was showing me just how much he loved me and despite my declaration, I didn't doubt for a moment that he matched me in the depth of it.

And so we stood in the middle of this room, empty before, now filled with infinite love, endless devotion, clinging to each other. I would never let him go.

"Do you want this house?" He murmured against me finally, our eyes opening in unison.

"I do. Do you?"

His grin widened at those words. "I do."

Releasing his hold on me, he called into the other room. "Hey, uh…" he trailed off, whispering, "What's her name again?"

I laughed at the oblivious man I loved so much. "Tanya."

"Hey, Tanya?" His melodious voice echoed in the room, surrounding me.

"Yes?" She was in the room almost instantly, her face hopeful.

His hand found mine and our fingers intertwined effortlessly. He placed his other hand over his heart, gazing down at me, showing me where my true home was. I did the same and he squeezed my hand before turning back to Tanya with certainty.

"We found it. This is our home."


	7. Mirror

**The next few prompts coming through are going to be Rosalie – she's in my head right now. **

**Soundtrack: Running Up That Hill - Placebo**

**Big thanks to hmonster4 for helping me, as always.**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Mirror  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Rosalie  
Rating: T

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Rosalie stared in the mirror, breathing deliberately. The unnecessary process only fanned her ire.

She could hear Bella below. The thrum of her heartbeat. Her blood pumping through a thriving, fragile, _human_ body. Everything about her exemplified life.

She concentrated on her reflection – cold amber eyes instead of warm brown ones. Unearthly white flesh, hard as limestone instead of supple, flushed skin.

She knew she was beautiful. She didn't envy Bella her looks. No, she envied her something much more. Something she was too willing to give up. Bella's humanity was disposable to her, and that was all Rosalie wanted.


	8. Erosion

**Full disclosure: I slaved over this one. I hope you find it was worth it! **

**Hmonster4 made me slave over it more (but just a little bit). Thanks, as always, goes to her for her help and calming words. **

**Thanks also to Maximista for her extra set of eyes :) **

**Soundtrack: Elephants by Rachael Yamagata**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Erosion  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Rosalie  
Rating: T

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"I always find you here."

She didn't turn around, only catching his eye in the mirror while silently reciting passages from Emily Post's _Etiquette_. She didn't want Edward in her head right now, not with these thoughts.

He was still, his eyes probing, so she looked away to avoid his scrutiny.

They stood there for minutes, maybe hours, until she finally broke under his steady gaze. "I keep expecting to see something different. I'm not used to this."

She wished she could inhale the words, tuck them into her useless lungs. In the seven days that she'd been here, he'd been able to pull these declarations from her sporadically, even as she tried to mentally block them from him. She voiced them against her will, and she hated that. She hated letting her guard down around him.

She felt him analyzing her. He didn't view her the way most men did, or had, as something to be acquired, a beautiful prop. It infuriated her at first when she heard him say he didn't want her as his mate. It didn't matter that she didn't want him. She was used to the attention and she still needed it, even as her life lay in pieces around her feet.

But now? Now she just wanted him to leave her alone. And yet he remained.

"What do you see?" His voice was low but echoed around the room. Everything was louder now, more resonant. All of her senses were heightened. She couldn't get used to it.

Distracted by the still-new sensations, she responded automatically. "Everything that I can't have now. Everything that I used to be."

Her eyes wandered over her face. Still perfectly symmetrical, still breathtaking in its beauty. Even more so, actually. But she would never get used to seeing gold instead of violet, ivory instead of peaches and cream. She would never get used to the texture of her skin or the absolute stillness of her body, particularly on the inside. Nothing moved in there. Her organs stayed as decoration only, her veins as empty roads that led nowhere important.

Or nowhere at all, really.

"Rosalie?" he probed. The concern was evident in his tone and she resented it. He leaned against the doorjamb, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his face placid save for a tiny furrow in the middle of his brow.

"I'm fine," she snapped, her mouth spreading into a brittle smile. She didn't even fool herself, but tossed her golden hair – at least she still had _that_ – over her shoulder and spun on her heel to face him.

Still he didn't move.

"Rosalie," he said again.

"I'm _fine_."

He hesitated and then nodded. She knew he didn't believe her, but he wouldn't push. "It's still all very fresh for you. It took me quite awhile to adjust to the change."

She noticed him wince, but his words had ignited a fire inside of her, so it slipped from her mind before she could process it.

"The _change_?" Her voice sounded bitter, the words tasting even more sour on her tongue. "We're the walking dead, Edward. That's a little more serious than, say, moving to a new town, don't you think?"

"You don't have to be the walking dead," he stated, as if it were that easy. As if it were her _choice_. His mouth quirked. "You're only as dead as you feel."

"Well, I feel pretty damn dead."

Their silence was thick. She had startled him with her severe response. He'd just been trying to ease some of her tension, the rolling black cloud over her head, but it had backfired. He understood that immediately.

She saw his hands move upward in supplication, palms out. She didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on the long lines of his fingers.

"I apologize, that was in poor taste. I didn't meant to trivialize your pain," he murmured. "It's just that whenever you let me hear your thoughts, you're thinking about what happened to you. You're reliving it constantly. Your mind is very dark, Rose."

Red colored her memories. All she saw was violence, theirs and then hers. She waited for that rush of vindication but it didn't come. It never came.

After she had killed them she had expected the drowning rage, the ravaging sorrow, to lessen. She had stared at herself in a storefront window and tried to smile. She had tried to feel some sort of relief. But all she could feel was a crushing weight on her chest, the terrible need to cry or scream or die, in earnest this time, and none of it happened. Those feelings followed her around like a constant shadow. The bitterness rotted her from the inside.

Edward would never be able to understand that feeling. No one would, because no one carried the burden of her story. He was turned without permission, yes, just as she had been. But his few moments before the death of his humanity weren't filled with terror, with violence and abuse and screaming and blood, so much blood. She felt it still, warm on her face. She tasted it in her mouth, metallic and thick. She'd begged for her life but was given no reprieve. The man she had been prepared to spend the rest of her life with laughed as he walked away from her demolished body. She heard the sharp edge of it while she drifted into unconsciousness.

It was the last sound she heard before her life was taken.

Shaking off her thoughts, she finally met his gaze. His eyes were dark and troubled. Lost in her memories, she had forgotten that he would be able to hear everything she was thinking. Her thoughts, those rancid recollections, were his now too. Once again she had the urge to take it all back. To rewind time.

Instead she fell back on false bravado, pretending that she didn't care.

Right. She just wouldn't care.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were the only one allowed to have tortured thoughts. I'll just go brush my hair now."

She stormed past him, trying not to shake, and his fingers reached out to her. They gripped her wrist, restraining her at the doorway. She looked down at them in surprise and then up at him.

"Mind reader or not, I don't presume to understand what you've gone through," he said steadily, his eyes focused on some vantage point beyond her shoulder. "And you're correct, my experience _was_ very different from yours. I can only imagine…" He trailed off. His jaw was clenching and unclenching and she wondered if he _did_ imagine it. "But, Rosalie, it's over. They're dead. You can't do this to yourself anymore. You won't survive it if you do."

_Maybe I don't want to survive it_, she thought. She couldn't say it out loud, but he would hear it nonetheless. And he did. His fingers tightened around her wrist, his gaze solid on her.

"Don't say that. Don't even think it."

"What's it to you?" She growled. It rumbled down in her chest and she stopped, her free hand pressing against her solid skin in shock.

What was _that_?

He looked at her hand, a flicker of acknowledgement, or maybe of sympathy, passing over his face. His eyes found hers again. "Do you really want to go through this all alone, Rosalie? Are you going to insist on pretending that the only things that worry you are your looks and your attire? I've heard your thoughts. Try as you might, I know there's more to you than that. I know you're scared."

She sneered at him but didn't move. "You can't just go around poking in people's minds, okay? Those are _my _memories, _my _thoughts. It would be one thing if I could return the favor, but you're –" She stopped, shaking her head. "You're impossible! You expect me to confide in you, you invade my mind and listen to my most private thoughts and yet I get nothing in return. You walk around this house like some silent ghost, Edward, and play your sad music on the piano. That's all I know about you."

She paused to allow him a rebuttal but he said nothing. She pushed on. "Tell me how that's fair."

It wasn't fair at all, and he had to know that. Surely he knew it. Perhaps that's why he didn't respond.

The anger rose in her chest, riding on the tail end of that animalistic growl. She was furious that he granted her no response, so angry that she was in this position and that Edward was in her face all the time. She didn't want his help or his pity. Especially not his pity.

"That's what I thought," she huffed as he continued his apparent vow of silence, staring down at the ground. He looked like he was struggling with something, but Rosalie couldn't find it in her dead heart to care. "There's no give and take happening here, and I don't give unless I can take."

She yanked her wrist out of his grasp and stormed past him, in earnest this time. Her heels clicked furiously against the floor as she took off down the hall and she yelled over her shoulder, "Stay out of my head!"

She had almost rounded the corner when he spoke.

"I left Carlisle and Esme for four years."

She stopped and turned, not sure she had heard him correctly. Her hair fanned around her shoulders. "What did you say?"

"I left," he repeated, slowly. His eyes darted up to her and then down again, focusing on his shoes. Despite her urge to force him to continue, for God's sake hurry up and spit it out, she knew he was trying to give her something. It was very obviously hard for him, and if she wasn't quiet and patient, he would clam up and walk away.

She was the still, silent one now.

"I returned two years ago," he continued with a deep, steadying breath. "I rebelled against the way of life Carlisle had built over so many years. I killed people, Rosalie. It didn't matter that they were murderers, rapists, sociopaths, truly the scourge of society. I thought I was a monster, so I behaved as such and I showed no mercy to the men whose lives I took. I became everything I was afraid to be. It wasn't until I saw my reflection in a window one night after a kill – my last one – that I truly realized the depravity that had occurred by my own hand. I couldn't bear it for one more second."

His confession rocked her to the core. For once, she had no retort, nothing to contribute. Her mouth hung open uselessly and she could almost hear her mother admonishing her for her lack of manners.

He stepped closer, seemingly emboldened by his admission. "So you see, I know what it's like to look in the mirror and see a monster, to feel that you are the manifestation of your own nightmares. I know that eternity seems like a prison sentence when you are alone, when you're frightened. I've lived it, Rosalie, I've breathed it. I've _been_ it. And I'll be damned if I'll watch you go through the same thing."

"It's too late," Rosalie whispered. Though her tear ducts were barren, she felt that familiar squeeze in her throat, the constricting of muscles, the lump forming.

"It's never too late," he whispered back.

"I've killed people."

"As have I."

"We _are_ monsters," she choked out. "This isn't natural. I should be in the ground. I should be decaying down there instead of up here."

"But you're not. You're here and you have to make a choice." He gripped her shoulders and she placed her fists against his chest.

"What choice, Edward?" she cried, beating them against his hard skin. He was infuriatingly solid and much too close, and he only moved closer, gripped her tighter. "What choice was I given by Royce? By Carlisle? My fate was chosen for me and I have to _accept_ that now, do I? I have to be okay with sustaining myself on blood, with having no heartbeat, no chance for motherhood, with this inhuman speed and this inhuman skin?"

"What choice do you have to _refuse_ it, Rosalie?"

Her fists paused mid-strike and she stared up at him, both furious and conquered by his simple logic.

He was right, of course. Unless she somehow managed to kill herself, she had to come to terms with the new life she had been given. She knew Carlisle had only done what he thought was right at the time, had only wanted a companion for Edward. He had thought he was giving both Rosalie and Edward a second chance. And though it wasn't the second chance either of them expected or even wanted, it was a chance nonetheless. She was still tied to the earth. She was _here_. And maybe she would have a chance to retain – or regain – her humanity.

Despite that knowledge, she was weak with grief. She couldn't process the injustice of it all just yet. She was tired of fighting it, of pretending to be strong and impervious. She wasn't right now.

Her body sagged against his and he supported her, secured her against his sturdy form.

"It's not fair," she whimpered, her cheek against his chest. She felt his hand move to the back of her head, cradling her indestructible skull as if it was an eggshell, and she squeezed her eyes shut, longing shooting down her spine. Her hands dangled uselessly at her sides, hands balled into fists. It had been so long since she had been held like this. She couldn't recall the last time.

"It's not," he agreed and it occurred to her that maybe he needed this as much as she did.

He cradled her limp body for what seemed like forever, his own motionless. He let her grieve for her life, taken not two weeks earlier. Her dry weeping turned to shuddering breaths and then finally to hushed, steady inhalations and exhalations. Her own body became so quiet, her mind so still, that she believed for a moment she was sleeping. She envisioned laying her head on her pillow, closing her eyes, letting the steady thump of her heart lull her into slumber. She imagined waking up in that same warm bed only to realize that this had been a figment of her overactive imagination.

She always had quite the flair for dramatics.

But Edward's hands making small, soothing circles along her back brought her crashing back to earth.

It was all too real. This was her life now. She was just beginning to understand that.

"Carlisle's coming in a moment," Edward murmured against her hair, squeezing her gently. "He's going to think –"

She disengaged herself from his embrace more quickly than she thought possible. She was still getting used to the speed with which she moved, this added to the list of myriad other changes. There were a lot of things to get used to.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, and she knew it was for more than having to interrupt their time together. She felt off-kilter and slightly dizzy now, standing on her own. He had been her unexpected anchor while she broke down and she felt like a foal, new legs and all. She didn't know what to say or how to thank him for being there when she didn't even know that she needed him.

But the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability suddenly scared her, even more so with the abrupt shift in their conversation.

She felt herself slipping back behind that blustery attitude and she shrugged his apology off. "I don't care. I'm sorry for crying all over you. At least I don't have tears to ruin your shirt."

He ignored her sarcasm. "I meant what I said, Rosalie."

Her keen ears heard the distinct fall of footsteps. She recognized them as Carlisle's, headed this way, and she started backing down the hallway, away from this moment. Away from Edward.

"I meant what I said, too."

His head cocked to the side and his eyes were curious, still worried, as she continued moving backwards.

She fixed him with a steely glare, lest he forget her earlier demand. It was especially pertinent now with all of the turmoil raiding her mind. The vulnerability she felt would only increase tenfold if he heard her thoughts, if he knew how much she had needed him just now.

"Stay out of my head."

And then she disappeared.


	9. Stagnant

**All right, we're back to Bella. This is just a little blurb from New Moon – guess I've got that one on the brain right now. Thanks to everyone reading/reviewing! Big thanks as usual to hmonster4 for helping me out, as well.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Stagnant  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Bella/Edward implied  
Rating: K

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Time does not heal all wounds. Time only closes them, makes it so that you no longer bleed from your injury. But you are left with that reminder, the jagged scar that aches with phantom pains. After awhile, it becomes a part of you. Your body adjusts to the change but its foreign texture, the ugly discolored pucker of it, is always there so that when you wonder, "Was that real? Was any of it?" all you have to do is look down and see that you are permanently marked, irrevocably changed. You have been through a battle and you've made it to the other side alive.

But what does _alive_ really mean, anyway? You're breathing? You're able to put one foot in front of the other? Your heart beats at fairly normal intervals and your blood pumps through your veins with some sense of reason? And maybe sometimes you'll feel a flicker of something beneath your ribs, no stronger than the beat of an insect's wing, a whisper really, and you'll remember a time when you felt it all. When your life made sense and you weren't just sitting here, waiting for something, anything. When you weren't broken.

Your life is divided into two fragments of time – the times when you have to pretend to be okay and the times when you can be alone, truly alone, and lay staring at the wall. You watch the shadows move, though your eyes do not. You hear the soft rustling of the tree outside your window and you think for one second that it could be him, but you can't bring yourself to turn your body just to face the disappointment of the empty sill. You are curled up on the bed, up into yourself, and this is comfortable because if you don't move, you don't hurt. So you don't, not even an inch, and you intrinsically understand the blissful numbness of inertia.

No, time does not heal anything at all. It just indicates that you've waited too long for him to come back.

And he is not coming back.


	10. Touch

**Oh hey, how about I just **_**allude**_** to sex? I still earned the M rating. Baby steps are gettin' bigger.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Touch  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Bella/Edward  
Rating: M

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She was so fragile underneath his exploring fingertips. Her skin like rice paper, her bones made of shale. If he wasn't careful, she would simply disintegrate underneath him.

He didn't want to treat her as if she were breakable. He knew she wanted him to take her completely uninhibited. Her eyes, heavy-lidded and half-focused, begged for what she was too bashful to voice. And his still and silent heart, every coiled muscle, every single cell in his body screamed the same. But he _would_ break her if he wasn't careful. She was too precious to him to risk the loss of control. He would give her what she wanted, what they both needed, but it would have to be his way. It was the only way.

So he slowly, agonizingly, so very gradually joined her body with his. Her fingers dug into his unyielding flesh. He grazed his nose against her pulsing neck, fluttered his lips against her hot, damp skin. What probably felt like a firm caress to her was barely a whisper to him. And yet he was ignited against her, bursting into flames. He burned so profoundly for her, molten heat underneath cool marble skin. Her erratically exhaled breath washed over him and his nostrils flared at her heady scent, freesia and strawberries and musk swirling together so powerfully that his eyes rolled back into his head.

And though he couldn't do all of the things he wanted to do with her, all of the things he had imagined so many times, one word came to mind and he chanted it like a prayer.

_Perfect. _


	11. Platonic

**All right, I'm back with some angst (shocking, I know). This time it's Jake and Bella, **_**Eclipse**_**-style. **

**Quick rec for a great TT25 one-shot that deserves some love – it's called Chasing Papers by LightStarDusting. Go to ****http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5486567/1/**** for a great Bella/Jasper story.  
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**As always, I have to thank my beta, hmonster4. She's kind of awesome :) **

**Finally, I don't own Twilight. I **_**do **_**wish I owned RPattz in that Vanity Fair spread, though. **

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The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Platonic  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Bella/Jacob  
Rating: K

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"You still love him."

Her silence spoke volumes, louder than any denial could.

"After everything he's done…" he trailed off. He didn't understand how Edward kept Bella's heart even after he broke it. How he kept _her_.

She swallowed, "Jake, I –"

"I love you, Bella. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"I love you, too," her voice was pained, "But…"

_But_. The cruelest word in the English language, as far as Jacob was concerned. Maybe she didn't want to love Edward, but he was learning that some things were written, uncontrollable.

And Bella's love for Edward was one of those things.


	12. Crave

**Counting Crows' "Colorblind" was the inspiration behind this piece. If you don't know it (and really, how could you not?) I highly suggest you listen to it immediately. It's amazing. **

**Hmonster4 told me this was okay. Thanks to her as always :) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I wouldn't mind owning this moment. **

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Crave  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella implied  
Rating: M-ish

* * *

We sway together, two bodies in a mass of sweaty people, dancing off beat. Your hands have found a way to my bare skin. One is cupped around my damp neck, the other pressed firmly against the small of my back, having found the space between the waistband of my jeans and the hem of my shirt.

I don't even know your name, but I think I know your heart. I memorize the beat of it, strong and steady against my cheek. Maybe it'll help me sleep later, remembering the rhythm. Or maybe it will keep me up all night. That won't be such a change from what my nightly routine is now, only this time I'll be dreaming, even if I'm wide awake.

I want to remember you just like this, body pressed against mine, cheek resting against my temple, your lips grazing against it as you sing along with a song that isn't playing. I remember seeing you from across the room and then you were in front of me and you were taking my hand. Our fingers tangled messily and I was surprised to find that they fit perfectly.

What else of me fits with you? Can it be perfect beyond this night? Will I eventually decide I hate the way you say 'pillow' or how you slurp your cereal? Will you stop loving how I sing off-key in the shower, how I always mess up the lyrics to your favorite songs? All of the quirks and habits that we found endearing, that helped us fall in love in the first place, will they be our downfall?

I don't know if it can get better than right now, right here in this shitty bar, you and me having this conversation with our bodies. I don't know if I want to know you more than this, though my heart has found a way to beat exactly with yours and my hands are clutching at your shirt. They probably wouldn't let go if I asked them to.

You aren't mouthing the words anymore, but rather singing them in my ear, whispering them. It's something about need and want and I can't decipher them exactly, not over the pounding bass of this other song that the rest of the crowd is dancing to, but I get the gist. I feel it.

My head tilts back and I look up into your eyes. They're green, unusual, hooded. I'm going to say something – I don't know what, though I can feel it bubbling up from my throat – but your mouth is on my mouth before I can say it. Your lips are warm, soft but unyielding. We both breathe in and then out. It's the same breath, an exhalation of salvation.

I realize in this moment, when your tongue slips past my lips and my hands make fists into your shirt, that I have no choice in this. I will fall. I will see this through to the end, whether it's tomorrow morning when you sneak out of my apartment or in 60 years when you're stroking my hair as I take my last breath.

I will follow you and it will be worth it, whatever the outcome.


	13. Vivid

**There are only allusions to what happened to Rosalie here, but fair warning just in case. **

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Vivid  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Rosalie  
Rating: T

* * *

She was pensive on her walk home, her boots crunching against the crystalline snow along the ground, crushing it under her heel. The street lamps illuminated her path, but it still seemed so dark. Little Henry's face was imprinted in her mind, his dimples all she could see. For reasons unknown to her, they were all she could remember of her visit to Vera's home.

She heard the voices from around the corner and the intermingled sense of dread and anticipation coagulated in her veins. The men were raucous and drunk, shouting obscenities into the frozen air, singing something unintelligible. She turned on her heel to sneak into an alleyway in order to evade them. She looked over her shoulder to ensure they hadn't seen her and was surprised to see a familiar face.

It was her fiancé's face, stretched into a sneering and unsteady grin. She stopped.

And so they began.

The darkness was all around her now, the pain so vivid that it soon turned her numb. Or perhaps that was the snow. Either way, she felt nothing after a while. She didn't even scream. She watched with unblinking eyes, her cheek pressed against the ground, as they walked away. The splayed fingers of her outstretched hand framed their smartly clad feet.

She closed her eyes.

Instead of the vast peace of nothingness she expected, she felt a soul-twisting burning. She felt her heart racing to save her. Felt it slowing, beating sporadically. Fire licked through her veins, charring her from the inside out and she thought of Henry's dimples, of his curly hair and his fathomless brown eyes. She imagined his gleeful laugh, his tiny hand with a fistful of her golden hair. She could almost feel his hand on her cheek, whispering to her that it would be okay, whatever _it _was.

She felt with perfect clarity the last beat of her heart. It sounded like the final nail in her coffin, its final weak pump echoing throughout her hollowed-out, ruined body.

And when she opened her eyes again, the scream that had been trapped inside of her like a manic animal was released.

She wasn't sure she'd ever stop.


	14. Retribution

**It's my friend Rosalie again. I alluded to the below in my erosion prompt, but felt the need to explore it a little bit more here.  
**

* * *

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Retribution  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Rosalie  
Rating: T**

**

* * *

  
**

Rosalie strides out of the bank's vault where Royce had been hiding like the coward he is.

No, _was_.

She is fierce in her beauty, her golden hair streaming behind her, ocher eyes blazing with a lethal cocktail of emotions. She expected a warm rush of justice and retribution when she made him beg for his life and took it anyway.

Instead, all she feels is frozen.

She passes by a storefront window and stops, runs a hand over the material of her wedding dress. She whispers the word she would have heard that day, its meaning bitter, twisted.

"Congratulations."


	15. Light

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Light  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Any  
Rating: T

* * *

It was the Fourth of July and they were together in the backyard. Sparks were igniting in the sky and also down below.

She lay next to him on the blanket. Her body was dangerously close to his, buzzing, tense. He could smell her. He desperately wanted to taste her.

She turned to him during a brilliant flash of light and it reflected in her eyes. Her mouth was there, right there. He imagined kissing her, his desire all-consuming. Her lips parted.

There was a final explosion in the sky and then a searing warmth as his mouth covered hers.


	16. Awkward

**Thanks to AccioBourbon who (unbeknownst to her) sparked this little drabble. And for writing a Peter that is straight-up magical.**

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Awkward  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Bella/Edward  
Rating: T

* * *

He's ignoring her.

His mouth found hers in the dark school parking lot after the dance Alice made her attend on Saturday. Weeks of banter and longing looks led to this, his hands cupping her face, his lips warm and wanting, his tongue tempting her beyond imagination. She'd let him take that inaugural kiss, thinking it would be more than a fleeting moment with her back pressed against the cold metal of her truck.

She sees him in the hallway now and he hurries forward, uncomfortable. Her flaming cheeks expose her silent mortification. She goes, too, in the opposite direction.


	17. Play

**I luff them :) H, this is all your fault.**

**

* * *

**

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Play  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Rosalie/Emmett  
Rating: K

* * *

Emmett was stretched out on the couch, watching football with his eyes closed. I padded over and lay my body on top of his, pressing my ear to his warm chest.

"Love you, baby," he murmured sleepily. He reached up to play with my hair and I closed my eyes with a contented hum.

"Love you, too, Em," I sighed, listening to his heartbeat. Everything that he was as a man was embodied in this measured sound – strong and steady, constant and comforting.

It was these quiet moments that swelled my own heart, that reminded me how lucky I was.


	18. Sky

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Sky  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Charlie  
Rating: K

* * *

I looked out the window at the dark sky, clutching the note. It was the first thing I saw when I got home from Harry's funeral.

_I'm with Alice. Edward's in trouble_, it said. _So sorry_. _Love you so much_.

I'd watched her waste away over him. She didn't eat. When she slept, she screamed herself awake. She was blank, empty.

She'd left me then. Now she was gone again.

My job was to serve and protect. That I couldn't do that for my own daughter was gut wrenching and for the second time today, my eyes filled with tears.


	19. Jealousy

**This is what I **_**wish**_** Edward had done in **_**Eclipse**_**. GD, how long must a man be antagonized before he snaps?! **

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Jealousy  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella/Jacob  
Rating: T

* * *

I'd never hated the coldness of my body more than tonight, in this tent. My jaw clenched and unclenched rhythmically. I was finding it difficult to control my raging jealousy.

Jacob shifted, tightening his arms around Bella's body, and my nostrils flared in unheeded warning, venom pooling in my mouth. His dreams were infuriatingly vivid.

More potent than the jealousy was the feeling of utter ineptitude. _He _was the one pressed up against her. _He _was keeping her alive.

"_God, Bella_," he moaned suddenly.

I'd restrained myself for so long with the dog, all for her.

_No more. _

I pounced.


	20. Aesthetic

**Sorry, LightStarDusting, this one isn't Jasper/Alice either :) **

**Thanks to hmonster4 for taking a look at this. **

**_And, _I always forget to say this, but I think you know it's not mine. **

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Aesthetic  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Rosalie/Emmett implied  
Rating: M

* * *

He watched her walk across his bedroom, her naked body illuminated in the moonlight. His eyes traced the soft curve of her hips, the quiet protrusion of hipbone under skin. It was the place where his hands had been minutes before, curved around and gripping, holding her in place.

She must have felt his stare because she turned, her hair golden and disheveled. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips red and swollen. She smiled languorously. His was wide in return. He loved her like this, barefaced and natural, secure in her place here.

_No_, he thought. _I just love _her_._


	21. Sour

**Twilight is not mine.**

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Sour  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Emmett/Rosalie  
Rating: K

* * *

She was silent. He watched her from across the room while Carlisle and Edward talked of their impending move to Washington. If she felt the weight of his stare she pretended not to, staring out the window instead.

She hadn't spoken to him since he'd woken in a new world. He remembered staring at her downturned lips as she mouthed two words.

"I'm sorry."

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't, that the pain was worth it because of her. But the words stuck in his throat. Her silence created his.

They sat within him instead, acidic and burning.


	22. Worship

**Not mine ;) **

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Worship  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Any  
Rating: M

* * *

"You're so beautiful," he whispers. She presses closer, breathless.

He worships her, his hands moving over every inch of her skin, grazing along the curve between her hips and ribs, digging his fingers into her supple flesh. She cries out as he moves just right.

He tells her all of the things he wants to do to her, all of the ways in which her body satisfies him. Their mouths meet, frantic and untamed as he pushes her closer, as she takes him to the edge.

The manifestation of words they can't say yet is here, between their tangled bodies.


	23. Plea

**I'd always been curious as to what brought Edward back home after his period of rebelliousness. This was born from that big old question mark over my head. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. **

* * *

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Plea  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward  
Rating: T

* * *

He entered the church, sitting in the pew furthest back. He knew his eyes glowed red, but the darkness shrouded him, protecting his shameful secret.

The man he had just killed in the alley not far away had propelled him here. He'd seen the repulsive things in his mind – the assaults, sexual and otherwise – and grabbed the man by the neck, bit into the stubble-strewn flesh. The man hadn't fought back, though it would have been futile regardless. Instead, he saw a flash of a woman's face stained with tears.

_Forgive me_, his thoughts silently whispered. And then it went blank.

The man's body had sunk to the ground, lifeless and broken. The words swirled around in the air and were gulped into his lungs as he gasped for air he didn't need. The blood he had just consumed rushed up his esophagus, pooled at the back of his throat, coagulated on his tongue. He bent over, heaving, releasing his body of the sin the years of his disobedience had caused, of the darkness that had loomed over him. He was panting like the animal he was, gripping the brick façade of the building that concealed his crime until it crushed underneath his fingers.

And then he'd heard the chiming of the church bells. He'd stumbled toward the sound, his body shaking. Dust rose into the air as he heaved the doors open, like the tangible manifestations of the worshippers' prayers.

He sat, head bowed, jaw clenched. He rested his elbows on his legs, his forehead on the fist he made with his intertwined hands.

_Forgive me_.

He could still taste the metallic remnants of blood in his mouth. He rolled his tongue over his teeth and swallowed hard, trying to erase it. It was a reminder of all of the ways he had failed himself, of the ways he had failed Carlisle and Esme. He knew that forgiveness would be waiting at home for him should he decide to return to their way of life. They would accept him back without question. But could he forgive _himself_? He was as much a monster as those he had sought out. Surely mercy could not be bestowed on him when he had shown none to the men he'd killed.

_Forgive me_. The words taunted him.

He knew he could not atone for his sins here, but he remained seated. The thoughts and silent prayers of the few people that sat with him in the nave echoed through his mind. Prayers for submission, for temperance, for salvation. Pleas for assistance and miracles.

And though he knew God, if He even existed, would not hear the pleas of someone without a soul, he bowed his head further and repeated the appeal of the man whose pathetic and crime-filled life he had just ended.

"Forgive me," he murmured soundlessly. "Please forgive me."

He didn't expect the heavy weight bearing down on his chest to lift with his entreaty, but if anything it grew heavier still. It was clear his place for repentance was not here, in a house of worship that had no place for a creature like him.

No, his expiation lay at the feet of his adoptive parents. He needed to hear their whispered words of reassurance. He needed to know that they absolved him, even if he could not absolve himself. Especially when he could not.

So he rose. His shoes moved quietly over the stone floor as he exited. His feet carried him quickly home.


	24. Voracious

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Voracious  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Bella  
Rating: T

* * *

The need to devour her was all encompassing. I could taste her already, could feel the warm liquid pouring down my throat.

She roused the animal contained inside with her mere existence. She burrowed herself underneath my impenetrable skin instantaneously. For the first time in seventy years, I considered breaking my promise to Carlisle.

I wanted to take a life, and it was hers. I wanted to drown myself in her blood. I wanted it to be the thing that destroyed me.

It wouldn't be a fair exchange, an innocent life for a damned one, but it consumed me nonetheless.


	25. Juvenile

**Recently I wrote a one-shot for the Indies First Time Writer contest called The Corner of Your Heart. It was a brief look into the friendship between Edward and Rosalie. **

**And you know? I can't seem to get them out of my head. They've both burrowed themselves into my little heart. **

**So here's another brief look, this time of their first meeting. I like to think it sums up their friendship pretty well.**

**

* * *

**

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Juvenile  
Pen name: HeartOfLife  
Pairing: Edward/Rosalie  
Rating: K

* * *

They faced off on the playground, the diminutive little boy and the girl whose hair shone like liquid gold underneath the sun.

She appraised him with cool blue eyes, her gaze finally stopping at the top of his head. She sniffed and said, "Your head looks like it's on fire."

His hand flew to his hair and he flattened his palms over it, trying hard to hide it from her.

"You're stupid!" he shouted, his voice infused with all the passion that his five-year-old heart could muster. He watched in fascination as the girl's nostrils flared and her eyes grew large. She looked a little bit like a monster he had read about in one of his new books last night.

"You're stupid!" she bellowed. "And you have cooties!"

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

"Edward, Rosalie, please use your inside voices," Mrs. Cross called from the swings.

"But we're outside," Rosalie responded loudly, hands on hips.

Edward secretly agreed, but she'd just accused him of having cooties so he smiled widely as Mrs. Cross marched over and ushered the girl inside, ending her recess early. She glared back at him the whole way.

After school, Edward shuffled out the front doors with the other students to meet his mom. He didn't see the extended foot of an older boy until he had already tripped over it. His palms stung painfully as they hit the sidewalk, his backpack flying up and hitting my square on the back of the head. His eyes stung, too, and he blinked profusely. He hauled himself up, dusting off his dirty hands on his Spiderman t-shirt. A hot, fat tear rolled down his cheek and he angrily wiped it away.

The older boy was laughing at him, pointing his finger and clutching his stomach. Edward furrowed his brow fiercely, trying to stave off the ensuing tears but they just kept coming. He re-adjusted his backpack and started to walk away, his breath coming out in little gasps.

It was the sound that stopped him, a metallic clank followed by a pained howl. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Rosalie, Care Bears lunch box in hand, glaring at the older boy. He was clutching his head, staring down at her like she was crazy. Edward thought she might be.

"Pick on someone your own size, stupid!" Rosalie shouted. She turned to Edward. This time she didn't glare at him. She didn't look so much like a monster anymore. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he whispered, watching the boy slink away, still rubbing his head.

"Well, you need to stick up for yourself, you know," she said matter-of-factly.

"Okay." He thought it was better to just agree with her. She seemed to know what she was talking about.

She squinted at him for a minute before nodding her head. "You want to be friends?"

"You said I had cooties."

She rolled her eyes. "All boys have cooties. I'll still be your friend."

He shrugged, placated enough. He probably needed a friend, seeing as how he didn't have any. "Okay."

"That means that I'll always be there for you when you need me," she told him. "Like if you're sad or someone's beating you up or something. My mom told me that real friends are forever." She looked at him closely. "You can be my real friend if you want."

"That sounds fine," he said slowly. He liked the idea of a real friend.

"Okay, well, see you later," she said, skipping away from him.

"Bye," he replied, starting to walk towards the line of cars parked by the curb. His mom's silver car glinted in the sunlight as it pulled up at the end of the line.

"Hey, Edward?"

He turned around to face Rosalie. "Yeah?"

"You might not have cooties, you know," she conceded and then tilted her head thoughtfully. "But your head still looks like it's on fire."

She left Edward standing there, mouth slightly agape, until he heard his name being called.

He hopped into the car, his hands firmly woven through his hair, and collected a kiss from his mom. He thought of the bossy girl with the loud voice as they pulled out of the parking lot. He contemplated his first day of kindergarten, how he had started with no friends and ended up with one real friend, which seemed to him the best kind of all. One real friend was probably worth ten regular ones.

With that thought, a grin spread across his face and his hands drifted from his head.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading. It's been quite the ride.**

**And I have to thank hmonster4 - pretty sure none of this would've happened if it weren't for you. I owe you some drinks ;)  
**


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